Morning Meeting: A Halloween Story
by Kaeru Shisho
Summary: Duo's day begins in a graveyard and ends at a costume party.  A lighthearted salute to Halloween. 21, 34, 56


**Morning Meeting: A Halloween Story**

Disclaimer: Just borrowing the Gundam Wing boys for a few pages. Rated for strong language use and suggestive homosexual behavior. Shonen-ai.

* * *

Morning meeting in a graveyard. What was I thinking? I should be wrapped in blankets, tucked into my own bed at home, not here. Being with the dead didn't bother me. They were at rest. The living things in the garden of gloom and doom were another story. 

"Does a meeting in a graveyard foreshadow the permanence I am after?" I wondered aloud. I could be a deep thinker at times.

The black cat sitting enthroned in the dry birdbath watched me with regal gold eyes then arched her back and hissed at my interference in her still life. I presume all cats to be 'she' until proved otherwise, and I'm right most of the time—at least half.

"I wasn't asking you," I told her.

She blinked a warning signal: one for yes and two for no, maybe? "Kinda cold for a cat, isn't it." I said it more conversationally than as a question.

She recoiled herself on her throne and her tail whisked away a cobweb entangled in a couple shed leaves in another ambiguous gesture. I couldn't get a handle on the semaphore so I moved on. Talking to birds or cats isn't nuts; listening to their answers is though.

I wrapped my arms around my body, hiding my hands. My hands were my valued tools. I spoke with them; I ate, washed, and dressed with them. They pulled triggers, set timers, defused bombs or made them. Frostbite was not going to happen to them because I left my gloves in my other jacket pocket and my so-called friends couldn't keep time if they flew in the face of it, which doesn't make a whole lotta sense. My brain was getting numb, and that was second in importance to my hand tools.

"Quatre, if this is some kind of a joke, I'll kill you. You know that, don't you?" My bud didn't answer because he wasn't there, or I woulda listened to his answer. No, I woulda been inside his warm, luxury sedan on my way to wherever it was he really wanted to take me. Breakfast, would be nice.

Two women tottered by, sisters probably, prayer books pressed to their bosoms and lace shawls drawn over their pale faces. They spoke in whispered words I could not understand as they passed either reciting holy benedictions or muttering curses at being late to their matins. They probably recognized me as one of the Gundam pilots or a terrorist and couldn't figure whether or not to bless me or curse me.

I didn't need any more curses. What I needed was for Quatre to show up and have him whisk me away to eat a gi-normous breakfast and then do whatever it was he wanted in the first place-- if there was time left. It was getting on toward my regular wakeup time, and that meant that my workday was just around the corner.

Literally around the corner was a gravestone carved with the face of some featureless saint, head ringed with a milky wash of aureole. My mind overlaid that image with one of the faceless OZ soldiers I blew up lying in a pool of blood. Man, the place was filled with slivers of memories. Was there like a broken mirror in my brain, then?

Looking back on the war, the only justification for all the bloodshed I could figure was that the leadership decided to deal with the over population of the colonies by expanding the cemeteries. Bad joke. Everyone had their own agenda back then.

A chilling wind tattered the rising mist, aging the vaporous shrouds over the gravestones to shabbiness. It also sent icy fingers across my ears and toes. "Damn it's cold! Quatre, so help me!"

I jumped a foot at the feel of a creepy vibration by my thigh before realizing it was my cell phone. Great Scott! Look at the time! I was on the time clock now. This had to be Preventers calling. My thumb was over the caller ID so I couldn't read it. I tried, but failed, and that pissed me off more. I still fumbled at opening the cell, and barked when I did. "Agent Maxwell!"

"Chill, dude. You forget the meeting?"

"Trowa? No, I did not. I'm _here_-- just where your fuckin' asshole boyfriend told me—no-- _ordered_ me to be. I'm freezing my nuts off out here!"

"That's sounds bad. It's warm here. Uh, _your_ fuckin' asshole boyfriend wants to chat you up. Hold on."

I held a fraction of a second and then heard Heero's monotone. "Duo? You're not at work are you?"

"I should be, but no I'm right where Quatre told me to meet. I didn't catch the particular tomb he said, but I'm here, standing in the middle of Sanc Cemetery freezing—"

"That was a morning meeting at the _costume_ shop, which is by the _seminary_." Heero sighed.

The trees sighed with him. The universe sighed with him over my stupidity. "Forgive the foolish their foibles," they said. "And this _is_ Duo, remember?"

Heero's voice droned in my ear. "We're going to be late for work. I'll just choose something for you and pick you up where you are. Meet the car at the East entrance."

Ah, shi-ipwreck. Just cleaning up the language here.

"East is in the direction where the sun is now." That was from a voice in the background, Wufei Charm-the-pants-off-you Chang (shortened by me to Charm-Fu, which makes a nice little chant he loves. It goes like this: Fuck you, Charm-Fu!) who was contributing the smart-alecky remarks. I would get my revenge. No worries 'bout that.

(o)

Forget how my workday went. I got by, it came to an uncertain end, and now we were at Milliardo and Relena's place, in one of the twelve thousand rooms on the umpteenth floor, changing into costumes.

"It will be fun!" Quatre assured me.

"Dressing in fuc-uh…_uncomfortable_ costumes is fun, how?" I asked, still peeved over the screw up this morning, and I was still working on cleaning up my language, clearing out the cursing that seemed a part of me, but not appropriate when in polite society or at the office.

"It transports you out of yourself and lets you pretend to be somebody else."

Quatre spoke in that airy, carefree tone of voice he could converse in when he was being courteously indifferent. How dare he be indifferent! I wanted sympathy and he was empathic so he should know that. So, I ended up sounding miffed.

"I like me. I don't want to be someone else." No, make that sulky.

"You always have stood alone," Trowa commented as he strode into the room in full military attire.

It was the uniform of some fancy-ass military from a place and time I didn't recognize, but I coveted the saber at his side. Man, he could carry-off class well, probably because he had good mimicking skills, but mostly because he was tall and had a confident bearing and he also posted more kills than the rest of us as a Gundam pilot. And he had that awesome saber. I could look cool in that get-up, too, or just the saber.

Trowa gingery picked at the fabric in Heero's hand, my outfit or Heero's, I couldn't tell, but it was black and I swear I saw white feathers. "Pretty."

Heero turned his twin-buster-rifle-beam-saber-with-recharge-racks-shielded-by-his-skull glare onto Trowa. "Winner was explaining the purpose of the dressing up for tonight's party. Duo is still…uncomfortable with it."

I don't know why Heero hesitated over "uncomfortable." Maybe the word made him uncomfortable or maybe he wasn't sure if the word he was searching for wasn't really the stronger negative of "disinclined."

I was also surprised Trowa was still standing. Not only that, but he was still talking. "That's because he knows he'll feel stupid wearing what you picked out for him. What are you?" Trowa asked.

"Heero is Prince Charming," Quatre answered for him. "And dressing up wasn't my idea, so I'm not defending it. Miss Relena wanted all her guests in costume because it is a Halloween holiday costume party. These aren't too bad, I think, considering. I think you make a handsome Russian prince."

Quatre's unabashed checking out of Trowa's figure was pretty intense. Yeah, Trowa did look great in that military-styled coat, heavy with gold braiding and brass buttons. Scary, actually. He, of course was not impressed with himself, jokingly telling us, "I look like the ringmaster from a circus."

"Nonsense," Quatre clipped off. "You look fabulous. Could you give me a hand with this?"

Neither Trowa nor Heero moved, unsure whom he meant, although Heero was holding something, and his stare inferred: "He's your problem."

"Whichever of you has a free pair of hands!" Quatre cried out.

I was sure he didn't want my help, and didn't even bother to move.

Trowa shrugged inside his coat sending the brass jangling down his chest, and tugged at one of Quatre's leather straps. "How does this work?"

"The breastplate buckles down the side. My arms don't bend that way," Quatre explained. "Heh, heh, heee!"

"Stop wiggling."

"You're tickling me."

"So what are you, Quat?" I asked, my eye riveted to his sword with the wicked upturned hook at the tip. Man, that could gut a guy good.

"I'm the Prince of Persia."

"You look like a twink in a can." My attitude was pretty cavalier, I know, but I was certain Heero had chosen really awesome gear for me to wear, calculated to bring out my down-to-earth manliness, so I figured I could be rather cocky. No such deal, though, as it turned out.

Quatre was a tough little Persian prince with his "Zero System" deployed, allowing his empathic "space heart" and his evil, devious little brain to cross communicate and come up with "Duo's vulnerable. Kill now." Quatre hurtled a punch at my stomach and connected. My excuse was that I had had my eyes shut smiling so he got past my defenses, not that I hadn't deserved the hit.

"It's armor and I like pastels," Quatre said.

Without air in my lungs I couldn't speak up, so Trowa put in his worthless pocket-change of enlightenment: "You're gay, too."

I don't know why Trowa was so talkative. My guess was that mighty sweet sword-- possibly a rapier, now that I examine it more closely-- at his side took him back to his hey-day years and the superheated blade, mounted on his Gundam's right forearm. Yeah, well, keep up the smart-talk circus-boy and you'll wish you still had the fast reflexes and acrobatic abilities you had when you were fifteen.

I studied Heero looking petulant in his costume and burst out laughing—a sort of choking, hacking, breathless laugh because I'd had the air knocked out of me. I mean, the black velvet jacket and white silk shirt were fine, even the knee pants weren't too bad what with the white tights. But to see him wearing that floppy hat sporting a huge fluffy black and white ostrich feather, well, it was more than my minimal restrain could control. It was like Heero the man in Bird mode!

"Go Wing!" I laughed, I cried, I died a little that night. I was brought up short by my guy's curious tone of voice.

"You haven't seen your costume yet. It's over there." Yep, he knew out to kill a mood without shooting it.

So did Wufei, strutting into the room at this time. Wufei had missed the previous conversations, because he chose to change in the men's room and probably needed to preen his scales into place. There was something annoying sleek about the man. It was as if at any moment he might curl up and start flickering his forked tongue. The temperature usually dropped fifty degrees the moment Charm-Fu frosted a room, but this time it shot up fifty degrees. Whoa! Little dragon boy had his flamethrowers on high. He looked hot, hot, hot in his floor-length, black gown with a golden dragon embroidered over the front and back. And I wasn't the only one who thought so. A hush settled over the room the instant he appeared.

"Has anyone seen my hair tie?" he asked then engaged his reptilian eyes on me as if I were swimming in hair ties, or could spawn clutches of hair ties, or had taken his. "Maxwell, you must have a dozen on you someplace."

_My God, Shenlong_. I must have looked like an idiot standing there with my mouth hanging open, but in that outfit and with his hair flowing midway to his chest, I swear, it was as if a Chinese prince materialized in the room right out of ancient history.

"Damn, you're hot in that," Trowa said through a whistle. "I'm really appreciative." He could say that because he was armed.

Wufei blushed hotly and snorted, attempting to sound indignant, but actually I could tell he was deeply pleased. Heero cleared his throat, bringing me back from the orient.

"Here's a twisty-tie," I said, shooting one in Charm-Fu's direction, "but I'd seriously consider leaving the hair down, if I were you."

"And you are not, for which I am eternally grateful."

At this point Heero pushed my costume into my face and told me to get dressed. I took my cue from Wufei and changed in the men's room, too. No way was I stripping down for everyone else's entertainment, seeing as how I was last. This turned out to be a good idea. It gave me a chance to get a really good look at myself in the mirror, get accustomed to the most outlandish, no, _ludicrous_, outfit ever. I wanted to demand a trade the Trowa. I could do military with brass and stars!

Instead, there I was dressed in a full-sleeved blousy shirt with a green and blue velvet doublet layered over tights. Medieval fop. Oh, yeah, and a shipwreck matching hat.

"What in the Seven Hells am I supposed to be in this getup?" I demanded of Heero, who had picked it out for no other reason, I figured, than because he liked the colors.

"A story-book prince," he said.

"Frog prince, pre-metamorphosis," Wufei added.

"Hey! I said something good about your costume!"

"So did I," he said with a wicked smile. Had he had a tail, it would have twitched and swished triumphantly.

"Nice legs, Maxwell." That was Trowa, contributing far more to the conversation than necessary. Far more.

"Is that you snickering, Quat? 'Cause if it is, I gotta tell you it's been pretty much a shipwreck of a day so far, and I owe you for the punch already." I used my best scowl to convince him I was serious.

"You look cute, Duo," he said meekly.

"I got on what amounts to tights and a barely-ass-covering dress. I look like I'm ready for a _ho stro_. I don't wanna look cute. I wanna cut a hunky figure out there. Need armor or a sword…no… an awesome axe… or a Death-scythe! That would be fitting, I think. Get me something so I can assert my manhood, or so help me Quatre I'm gonna tie you up and dump you in Felony Flats."

"You still hitting on my boyfriend?" Trowa grumbled in my ear.

"Still? I never--!"

"I just heard you luring him to your place with promises of vice. Ropes are my territory, and if anybody's going to study Quatre's inner bondage fetishes, it's gonna be me."

"My place?" _Felony Flats?_ Trowa was teasing me. I got it now, and matched his sleazy smile with one of my own.

Quatre was winding up for a comeback of his own, but Wufei stepped in to distract him with the blade of _his_ sword. Oh, yeah, Wufei had a long, nasty-looking sword, too. They were comparing lengths. Now isn't that just too gay?

"Just 'cause I don't load my place with fancy shit and give expensive presents with 'Givency' labels—" I launched into Trowa. Someone had to put him in his place. I'd teach him not to transcend his mysterious, silent persona again.

"Only present I got from you was obscene," Wufei drawled. I think he liked the way just saying the word made him feel all dirty.

"Lucky you," Trowa said with a twinkle in his eye. "Mine was labeled 'may cause drowsiness'."

"He gave me a book," Quatre put in for good measure.

"The Kama Sutra for Gay Men is not a book," Trowa growled, although it contained 64 types of sexual acts in 10 chapters and was undoubtedly the only book Trowa had read since he had to memorize the Preventer's rules and regulations manual one weekend before his admissions test. "It's a bible."

"That's blasphemous!" Wufei declared with the enthusiasm of a bible-thumping evangelist at a revival meeting. "If there was any justice, you'd both be struck down for—"

"Yeah, yeah… If I had a death wish," I said with a dramatic cast of my head. "I wouldn't have to look any further than over my shoulder."

On cue, Heero intoned from behind me, "It's time to join the party."

"Oh, gravy cakes!"

(o)

Milliardo Peacecraft was there, room center, reestablishing his claim as feudal overlord, brandishing his vampire fangs, and, all in all, generally turning water into wine-- or blood as it looked from the entryway. The man had flair even if he was stinking with _noblesse oblige_.

The marble fountain, awash in blood-hued punch, was a nice touch, but on closer observation it was downright creepy. Sitting dead center was a black marble statue of a cat so real I could have sworn it winked a gold-leafed orb at me.

If that didn't tingle my _deja vu_ senses, the next visitation did. Two young goth-garbed ladies passed me, nestled close together arm in arm, faces veiled behind black lace, and clutching their skull-and-crossbones bags to their chest.

"Hiya, Duo," one giggled. "Nice legs. Hey, Dorothy, I'd bet they'd be nice…" her voice dropped to a muttering in the ear of her companion, so I didn't catch what it was she thought my legs would be good for.

I watched the blood drain from Heero's face. He had been close enough to overhear what the girls were whispering about me. His arm was on mine in an instant weaving me through the throng of guests like a master helmsman at the rudder of his ship.

"Would you like something to eat?" he asked. Yes, he asked me that, as if he didn't _know_.

"Feed me and you'll never be able to get rid of me."

"That's a cat, Duo."

"Me-ow, baby."

I cracked him up with that one; unfortunately some dimwit overheard me and had to ask if I was Puss 'n Boots. Actually, he asked, "Are you guys Pussy and Boots?" And since Heero was wearing the boots, that made me the pussy. Heero stepped away and let me stand up for my own manhood. One, two, buckle my soft, little, ankle-high shoe. I had the prick on the floor, flat on his back, and begging for mercy a cat's whisker later.

See, Heero and I were tight, but we didn't flaunt it; in fact, I'd say we were a discreet couple. We didn't deserve to be ridiculed. Trowa and Quatre were pretty cool cats, too. Not even a tail sniff. Wufei and Mill, well, Wufei thought he was sly about it, but he didn't see the look of adoration in Mill's eyes when the man watched him and he couldn't imagine how worshipful his own lingering gazes were when they encountered the ex-prince of Sanc.

I was loading up my plate with Heero at my side, watching my back, when Trowa and Quatre cozied up, joining us at the buffet. "Oooh, five card stud. All we needed was Wufei, and we'd be a full house."

Heero laughed. He'd learned to laugh at my jokes once in awhile even if he didn't understand them. A sense of humor was his return to humanity, he once told me. And I told him not to worry; I had enough humor and sense for the both of us.

"An ancient Chinese saying comes to mind." Wufei was in oratory mode and gazing upwards as he appeared, and in his wake, the stunningly handsome vampire. Yeah, Milliardo had managed to hold onto his studly good looks, although Trowa, Quatre, and I had grown to within inches of his towering frame, he still was a head taller than Charm-Fu. "A passionate kiss, like a spider's web, soon leads to the undoing of the fly."

The vampire's pale eyebrows shot up into his long, platinum bangs, and then he sputtered into a laugh. His elbow jostled into me, causing me to nearly spill my late of food

"DeMint it all, Milliardo!" Oh well, I was still testing out that curse replacement.

"Please accept my sincere apologies." The vamp was all sultry suavity rolled into one smarmy, fang-filled smile away from being served up a "stake" and garlic platter in the face.

"Yeah, well--"

"Maxwell, tell the man it's all right and move down the line. You're blocking the buffet." Wufei looked supercilious enough for the both of them.

"Vampires suck."

Milliardo recovered his sensual charms and hummed very close to Wufei's right ear. "You know, only gay vampires come OUT at night."

Wufei reacted as expected; even his part turned red.

"You're a bloody genius, Peacecraft," Trowa said. That guy's as sage as a grouse, which must have a bigger kind of bird brain.

Okay, so my humor was wearing thin, but I'd had a sucky day and the party had too many parallels to my morning. The jokes over the food weren't helping either. A guy in a skeleton costume was the worst.

"Spare ribs, yes! I need those! Bone appetit everyone!"

"I want my coffee with sugar and screeeam!"

"Move it, skeleton guy. Go dance or something."

"I can't," he wailed. "I got _no body_ to dance with."

Trowa and Quatre must have already hit the punch a few too many times when I wasn't looking, because they were standing a little too close and telling lewd jokes in rowdy voices. And don't let anyone tell you Quatre's a sweet guy. Or innocent. He's not. He's worse than me, but with money, education, and polish.

"It's a treat if...he opens his throat and takes it all in," Trowa said.

"But it's a trick… if he bites!" Quatre snickered.

"It's a treat if...he starts with a strip tease," Trowa said.

"But it's a trick if...he turns out to be a cock tease!" Quatre chortled uproariously.

Relena must have heard the noise, because she joined us at the crowded buffet table. She was dressed as a, get this, princess. No shipwreck. She fit right in with our theme, and suddenly I felt the need to break into song. I didn't immediately, because I was unable to come up with a musical number utilizing Count Merquise and the five sexy princes. Not that I didn't try.

_"… To get you to thrive.  
I've pinched you back hard, like I'm supposed to  
You're barely alive.  
I've tried you at levels of moisture  
From desert to mud!  
I've given you grow lights and mineral supplements.  
What do you want from me? Blood?  
Ow! Damn Roses! Damn Thorns!" _

That was for Milliardo, not that he appreciated my efforts. He carefully shoved one of his prissy, gloved hands over my mouth and pushed. I smashed my head on Quatre's armored breastplate, which put me in mind of another tune I had to sing:

_"…Bet the local girls thought you were quite the charmer  
And I'll bet the ladies love a man in armor  
You can guess what we have missed the most since we went off to war  
What do we want?  
A girl worth fighting for…"_

Because I included Wufei in my grand embrace, they both jostled me away and yelled, but not before I reached a desperate arm out and clung to my bud's side, singing:

_"…Oh so noble, oh so strong  
Now I am home  
Here among my trappings  
And belongings I belong  
And if anybody doubts it  
They couldn't be more wrong  
I am a sovereign prince of Egypt…"_

"Persia has no cuture in common with Egypt, Duo," Quatre whined.

Sadly, Trowa tore me away before I could finish my tribute. As a result, I fluted my finest tune and directed it at him:

_"Seventy six trombones led the big parade,  
With a hundred and ten cornets close at hand.  
They were followed by rows and rows--"_

But even with my finest virtuoso performance, I was under appreciated. He did laugh, however, before propelling me into the safety of Heero's arms. I looked over and down into Relena's face. She was still hanging around.

"I'm so glad you all decided to come," Relena said, even though she was looking at Heero.

"Uh, huh," I commented.

"Duo, you have a lovely singing voice," Relena said hoping to discourage any more of it, I'm sure. "Why don't you take it over there?"

"Over there" was the door to the outside. No way, Jose. Instead, I warbled a tune I thought of-- just for her:

_"Girl, we've got work to do  
Pass me the paint and glue  
Perfect isn't easy  
But it's me..."_

"Duo." This time it was Heero. His adoring eyes were on me as were his hands, so I batted my eyes fetchingly (actually, I didn't do that) and belted out this little number to a waltzing rhythm:

_"I know you; I walked with you once upon a dream.  
I know you; the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam  
Yes, I know it's true, that visions are seldom all they seem  
But if I know you, I know what you'll do  
You'll love me at once the way you did once upon a dream!"_

"Was he singing to you?" Relena asked him.

"Yes," Heero said. He took up my hands and cradled them, respecting them for the valuable gifts to mankind that they were. All in all, it was a nice demonstration of how he felt about me, and in the company of Miss Relena, who had yet to understand _us_. Then for some reason, like he hadn't said enough, Heero thought he had to get into the act with a joke of his own, or one he'd looked up. "What do you get when you divide the circumference of a pumpkin by its radius?"

"A piece of the pie. Would you like a slice, Heero?" she asked, avoiding the point. I couldn't tell if that was purposefully or she didn't get that it was a joke. Anyway, Heero was pleased to deliver the punch line himself.

"You get pumpkin pi."

"Of course, you started with it in the first place. Really, Heero, I thought you'd figure that out for yourself." She patted his arm affectionately and nearly added "you poor thing" before moving off to say something to her step-brother.

Heero met my eyes. "It was a joke."

"I know. She didn't get it."

"You did."

"Yeah, 'Ro. I did."

"You haven't sung a tribute to yourself."

_Heero noticed! _"Well, I just thought of one. Wanna hear?"

His dipping chin said he did, so I sang:

_"It's not easy being green.  
It seems you blend in with so many other ord'nary things.  
And people tend to pass you over 'cause you're  
Not standing out like flashy sparkles in the water  
Or stars in the sky."_

He looked away. "You don't like your costume."

"Not a whole lot, but—"

Two men strode by us wearing OZ uniforms. They appeared odd and unearthly, as if wraiths or spirits had suddenly formed themselves from the drifting ground mist and shaped themselves into living men. The shock struck me cold. They had buster riles over their shoulders and I was unarmed. Vaporous fumes bubbled across the floorboards, rising from the dance floor from hidden fog generating machines, most likely, but the men in the mist like the ones in my memories filled me with dread. Were the dead of my past coming back to haunt me?

"Would you like to dance?" Heero asked. He must have seen my expression.

I would, but, "Isn't this a bit too public?" I said.

He shrugged. "It's a Halloween party. Let's freak them out."

"Okay."

It was uncanny and surreal how the night repeated the images of the morning in the graveyard, but when Heero took me in his arms and danced with me in front of all those people, looking at me, just me, well, I gotta say, little frog in Duo Maxwell felt like he transformed right then and there into the luckiest prince alive. I was desired and adored and loved by Heero Yuy. And that alone should chase away all my nightmares. It's a good thing, too, 'cause neither of us were packing any weapons that night.

**Happy Halloween to you all!**

**- KS**

* * *

Song credits:

Grow for Me  
From Little Shop of Horrors  
Music by Alan Menken; Lyrics by Howard Ashman

A Girl Worth Fighting For  
From Mulan  
Music: Matthew Wilder; Lyrics: David Zippel

All I Ever Wanted  
From Prince of Egypt  
Artist: Amick Byram / Linda Dee Shayne

Once Upon a Dream  
From Sleeping Beauty  
Music by Tchaikovsky  
Lyrics by Sammy Fain and Jack Lawrence

Perfect Isn't Easy  
From Oliver and Company  
Vocals: Bette Midler (Georgette)  
Music: Barry Manilow; Lyrics: Jack Feldman, Bruce Sussman

Seventy-Six Trombones  
From the Music man  
Artist: Meredith Willson

It's Not That Easy Being Green  
From "The Sesame Street Book and Record". 'Green' is (c)1970 Jonico Music, Inc.


End file.
